Highwayman
by lumaluma
Summary: Arthur is a roadside bandit, and Matthew an innkeeper's son. Though quite in love, neither of them is naive enough to believe themselves immune from tragedy, and rightfully so. UkCan, one-sided AmeCan. Based on the poem "The Highwayman" by Alfred Noyes.


_Another fairly short little story, this time based loosely on the poem "The Highwayman" by Alfred Noyes. It's a lovely poem, and very nice to recite aloud. _

_Warnings: character death._

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It was dark and cold, the wind desperately rattling the casement windows of the inn, unable to get past the solid stone walls. Matthew looked towards the window, eyebrows crinkling together. He opened the thick curtains, casting a glance around. The clouds covering the sky were blown away for a moment, and the moonlight shone down on the moor. The heather rippled in waves with the gusts of the wind, almost as black as the sky. No one on the highway that night; everyone was already inside. Well, everyone except for Alfred. The stableman often stayed outside long after Matthew and his father were asleep.

He was seated on a pile of hay outside the stable, a blanket around his shoulders. The wind picked up again, and he shivered. Taking pity on him, Matthew left his bedroom to make a pot of tea for him. He took it outside, just a cloak over his nightclothes. When he approached Alfred, the man smiled. "Evening, Matthew."

"Good evening. I brought you some tea." Matthew handed the pot and a mug to him. "It's awfully cold tonight. I hope this warms you up a little."

"I'm sure it will." Alfred poured himself a cup and took a sip. "Thank you."

"It was nothing. But don't worry yourself about staying out here too much longer. I doubt anyone will be stopping by at this hour."

"You know that highwayman's in the area again, don't you?"

Matthew knew fully well of the bandit's whereabouts, and he nodded. "I know. But I doubt he'd stop by an inn like this, to be honest. We don't have any patrons with anything worth stealing."

Alfred shrugged, drawing the blanket a little tighter around his shoulders. "I swear I've seen him snooping about around here. They say he's got a red coat with one of those fancy lace collars, and a big black horse. Not long ago, I heard a noise around midnight. It was someone leaving the inn, and they were dressed like that."

"When you're tired, your eyes play tricks on you. Especially in the dark. Some nights, I think I see my mother outside my window, but she's not really there, even if I wish she was." Matthew shook his head. "It's best to forget those kinds of things and try to sleep."

"Maybe you're right." Alfred took another sip of tea. He smiled at Matthew. "You should get back inside. No reason for you to get cold on my behalf. Thanks again for the tea."

"You're welcome." Matthew nodded at Alfred, heading back to the inn. He didn't close the curtains this time, but lay in bed, watching the shadows of the clouds blow across the ceiling. Just when he started to drift off, eyes half-shut, he heard a horse's hooves clatter on the cobblestones, and there was a knock on the window. He sat up and quickly walked to the window, smiling when he saw who it was. He opened the window, leaning out of it. "I knew you'd be here tonight." He kissed the forehead of the man who stood there.

"I promised two weeks, didn't I?" The man stroked Matthew's cheek with a gloved hand. "Bitterly cold as it is, I am a man of my word."

"And a dishonest thief."

"Yes, well, that comes with my line of work." His eyes sparkled, and he smiled as Matthew leaned their foreheads together.

"Arthur…"

"Yes?"

"I dread the day you get caught. With the rate news takes to get here, you'd be long dead before I even knew you had been arrested."

"My love, you know that won't happen. In but a short time, I will retire from this life."

"And then what?" Matthew knew what came next. He just liked to hear it.

"I will steal you away from here and take you to London, where we will live like lords, and no one will know any better." Arthur ran a hand through Matthew's hair. "It's getting long again."

"Yes, I know. You like it better long, after all."

"Can you blame me for that?"

"No." Matthew took Arthur's hand. "But please, be careful. Alfred saw you the last time you were here."

"Alfred?"

"The stableman. God only knows what he was doing awake so late, but the fact of the matter is that he knew who you were. Your manner of dress isn't exactly subtle, and these days, nearly everyone knows to watch out for the red-coated highwayman."

Arthur sighed, shaking his head. "My reputation precedes me…" he smirked, murmuring, "I'm not sure whether to be proud or annoyed."

"I would be cautious, if I were you. The king's troops are bound to be hunting for you, and if they know what you look like, they won't hesitate to shoot on sight." Matthew kissed the back of Arthur's hand.

Unknown to either man, Alfred stood beside the stable, eyes narrowed at the scene unfolding before him. "I knew it wasn't an illusion," he hissed under his breath, "and you, Matthew, trying to hide this from me? You may have stolen my heart, but I _will not _allow this man to steal anymore."

"You'll be leaving soon, won't you?" Matthew asked, and Arthur nodded.

"I'm after a prize, dearest. But tomorrow night, I'll be back."

"Tomorrow?"

"Yes, tomorrow. I've missed you lately, with this cold spell." Arthur shook his hair out of his eyes. "But before I go, a good luck kiss?"

Matthew smiled, cupping Arthur's face with his hands. "Don't be _too _reckless."

"I wouldn't dare to dream of it," Arthur replied, before pressing his lips against Matthew's. They held each other for a moment, oblivious to their surroundings. When they broke apart, Matthew nuzzled his nose against Arthur's.

"I love you."

"As I love you. Watch for me tomorrow night, I will return, even if hell should bar the way."

When Arthur rode away, Matthew closed his window and returned to bed, smiling serenely up at the ceiling.

Having heard quite enough, Alfred quietly walked a horse out of the stable, throwing a coat on before setting off towards the town. If he hurried, he could alert the king's soldiers to the highwayman's plans and return to the inn before dawn. Matthew and his father would be none the wiser.

As he was washing up the dishes from that day's dinner, Matthew heard a bit of a ruckus in the dining hall of the inn. He stepped out of the kitchen to see a squadron of soldiers standing there, demanding a round of ale. So, hurrying to get them what they asked for, Matthew wondered what had brought them to these parts. Yes, there was a military outpost one town over, but the men never bothered coming this far just for a drink.

When they had finished their drinks, just as the sun vanished below the horizon, one of the soldiers turned to Matthew. "You there, you're the innkeeper's son, yes?"

"Yes, I am. How may I be of service?"

"Take us to your room." When Matthew simply stood there, confused, he barked, "That was an order, citizen! You're under suspicion of fraternizing with a known criminal."

"I beg your pardon, but-"

"The highwayman, boy. Your stableman saw the two of you talking last night, don't deny it."

Matthew swallowed heavily. "Very well. Follow me."

When he opened the door to his bedroom, his hands were tied together in front of him, and he was pushed towards the window. "Wait there. If you move, I'll shoot you where you stand."

Through the window, Matthew could hear Alfred arguing with one of the soldiers. "Matthew hasn't done anything!"

"He knew the identity and whereabouts of a traitor to the king, and failed to turn them in. That's too close to treason for us to ignore."

"A man may keep his friend's secrets without punishment, how is this any different?"

"Because this man does not show any remorse for his _friend_'_s _actions. Both of them are considered a threat to the empire."

Closing his eyes, Matthew prayed that Arthur had somehow heard about what was happening and, that he wouldn't show up that night. One of the soldiers nudged him with the barrel of his musket. "Oy, no falling asleep."

The leader came back to the room with a chair. "Sit down." When Matthew obeyed, he took the other man's musket and wedged it underneath Matthew's sternum. "If he shows up and you even think about warning him off, you're a dead man. Understood?"

"Yes, sir." As he spoke, a rag was shoved into his mouth and tied behind his head. Breathing in deeply through his nose, Matthew stared straight ahead at the highway. Nothing good would come of this night, he could feel it.

After much shouting in the courtyard, Alfred stormed off angrily, leaving Matthew completely alone with the soldiers. One of them snickered and kicked Matthew in the back. "Now, keep good watch, you bastard."

No, Matthew thought to himself, he wouldn't watch Arthur get shot down in front of him. He twisted his hands around, seeing if the rope would loosen, but it stayed taut. In complete hopelessness, he stretched his fingers, nudging the very edge of the musket further towards his hands, mouthing, "Please, please," behind the gag. He did not know how many minutes or hours passed, watching the moon slowly rise and the stars begin to shine.

"Open the window," the leader said, "we want to hear him before we can see him."

Matthew stopped wriggling his fingers for a moment, his hands hot and wet with what was either sweat or blood, he couldn't tell. When the window was opened, the soldier's arm brushed the musket slightly, knocking it into Matthew's grasp. With a muffled breath of surprise, Matthew realised he had the trigger right in his fingers. Heart beating quickly, he knew what he could do.

Closing his eyes, he breathed in and out slowly. Maybe Arthur would stay away that night. Maybe he had stopped by the village down the road and learned the news.

Just then, he heard the sound of horse's hooves in the distance. Eyes widening, Matthew looked around desperately. The soldiers looked around, and there he was, riding over the hill.

It was deathly silent on the moor that night, nothing to hide the loud footfalls of the horse the highwayman rode upon. No trees for him to hide behind, barely even a bush for cover. When the soldiers cast a glance at Matthew, he sat up straight, not moving a single muscle, hardly daring to blink. The sound of the hooves grew louder and louder, until the only thing Matthew could hear apart from it was the beating of his own heart.

In the moonlight, he could almost see Arthur's face, and he knew there was only a moment before he would be in range of the soldiers' muskets. He had a choice to make, and he had to make it right away. Sitting up even taller, he saw the light of the moon shine down on Arthur's face. He was smiling. Matthew's eyes widened for a moment, before he breathed in deeply and squeezed the trigger.

The gunpowder exploding caused a near-deafening bang in the quiet of the moor. The soldiers jumped to their feet, and Matthew looked out the window, gritting his teeth against the cloth as he saw Arthur ride away. Eyes slipping shut, hot blood pouring out onto his lap with every heartbeat, Matthew let everything vanish into blackness.

Thinking someone was shooting at him, Arthur pulled on the reins, digging his heels into the horse's flanks. Someone knew. If Matthew was right, it must have been the stableman. He urged his horse to gallop away, riding to the nearby village. There, he tethered his horse up by a trough of water, stroking its mane gently and whispering soothing words. "It's all right, we're safe here," he murmured. The horse snorted and nosed Arthur's hand. The thief smiled, pulling an apple out of his pocket and feeding it to the horse. He took his coat off, exchanging it for a much less notable dark green jacket, and adjusted the saddlebags so they were more inconspicuous, not wanting anyone to go rifling through them. The last thing he needed was some little village brat going through his things and finding purses full of gold.

He sat down on the ground and dozed off until dawn, wondering when it would be safe to return to the inn. Eventually, Arthur decided to stop by the pub for breakfast. As he was finishing his tea and sopping up the juices from his sausage with a piece of bread, a young woman came running into the inn. "Father, something awful happened to the Williams!"

Arthur's heart skipped a beat. That was Matthew's family name. It was a common name in these parts, yes, but worrisome nonetheless. The innkeeper took his daughter's arm and pulled her off to the side, as to not disturb the other patrons. He stood right next to Arthur's table. "Calm down, Susan. What happened?"

"Some soldiers went up to the Lion's Head yesterday after Alfred came to town, saying something about the highwayman, and…"

"What happened? Is anyone hurt?"

"Yes. Matthew. He was shot, and they're saying he bled out before anyone could get to him."

Arthur dropped the teacup, face turning grey. The innkeeper glared at him, about to say something, when his face softened. "Did you know the boy?"

"Yes, I knew him quite well." Arthur gripped the edge of his seat. "Are you sure he's…?"

The girl nodded. "Yes. I was up there just now, delivering some eggs, and Alfred was in an awful state. I could barely get the words out of him, poor man." She swallowed, looking down at the floor. "But Matthew… he was so sweet, I can't imagine him getting mixed up with anything bad. There must have been some kind of mistake."

"Oh, there was a mistake all right." Arthur stood up, handing some money to the innkeeper to pay for his meal. "Where is the soldier's outpost?"

"On the main road, just across from the town hall."

"Thank you. I need to go have a _word_ with those men." Leaving the inn, Arthur checked both of his pistols. Fully loaded.

When he opened the door to the barracks, he found a group of about a dozen soldiers sitting around, talking. He cleared his throat and said in a calm, but piercing voice, "Who here were the men stationed at the Lion's Head last night?"

A few men stood up, turning to Arthur. "We were. What about it?"

"Someone I cared for very dearly was killed last night because of you. I'd return the favour, but I don't think your families would deserve that, so…" Arthur pulled out his pistols. "I suppose I'll just kill you myself."

Three quick shots were fired, and three soldiers fell, two stone-dead immediately, one choking on his blood as he hit the floor. Arthur turned on two more, but only had time to pull the trigger once more before ten muskets fired at once, sending him to his knees. Gritting his teeth, Arthur looked up at one young man, whose eyes filled with pity as he placed his musket against Arthur's forehead and pulled the trigger.

Many months later, Alfred stayed watch outside of the stables on another cold, windy night. When the wind blew the clouds away from the moon and stars, he saw something that made him nearly cry out. Matthew was standing by his window, but it wasn't Matthew as Alfred had seen him last. No, that grey-faced, blue-lipped, glassy-eyed corpse was nothing like the pale, translucent person he saw now. Frozen in place, Alfred saw another shimmering figure approach the window. He recognised that figure as that of the highwayman. They held hands, lips moving, though Alfred could not hear what they said.

He blinked several times and rubbed his eyes, but Matthew and the highwayman were still there. Sinking to his knees and closing his eyes, Alfred whispered, "Forgive me. I never meant for any of this to happen."

A soft, warm breeze blew on his face, and he opened his eyes to see he was alone again. Alfred looked up into the night sky. Maybe they were happier now, together and away from any harm.

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_I hope you enjoyed this. If you did, or if you see anything I can fix, please leave a review!_


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